<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>feed the machine by Wyvern_Archive</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29642595">feed the machine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyvern_Archive/pseuds/Wyvern_Archive'>Wyvern_Archive</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coffee, Insomnia, Other, POV Original Character, Swearing, dick-head co-workers, done with people's shit x the one person they have a soft spot for, non binary characters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:28:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29642595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyvern_Archive/pseuds/Wyvern_Archive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>just a mechanic working late one night and grabbing the attention of a certain hunter</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bloodhound (Apex Legends)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>feed the machine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>finally using my account for oc-fics again, its been a while! </p>
<p>rn all you need to know is that they're name is casey and they use he/they :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“oh for fuck’s sake”</p>
<p>fingertips rose to rub comforting circles on temples. It was late, the kind of late that meant most people were home or making their way there, the kind of late where the sun was officially down and let the icy chill that would only come late winter permeate the air, the kind of late where only workers were left. so, obviously, that left casey leaning over an engine that needed more than just a few minor touch-ups before it was ready for the customer who really should have been taking far more care with it so that it didn't need this much repair which they were sure to give them a decently sized, kind-as-one-can-be lecture on how to properly take good care so that it didn’t break as often as they knew it did, honestly why would-- </p>
<p>One breath, two. </p>
<p>Another late night, it seemed, and not one that would help with their already fucked sleeping schedule. casey’s hands came up to their face again, not particularly caring for the oil smudge that they could feel being left by their right thumb on the already sweat-covered forehead, counting to ten before lowering them and picking up the wrench discarded on the cracked concrete flooring and setting to work. </p>
<p>With the passing of time, the background sounds changed - no longer was there the soft thrum of vehicles passing by every so often, the television hung on the wall of the office droning away at whatever news there was. At some point, the others left - though casey didn’t pay them much mind, not even bothering to wave to them - it's not like they ever interacted outside of what conversations they’d drag him into when they were very much supposed to be doing something else (and he, for one, knew for a fact they got paid more than he did - something about being a “senior worker” though casey suspected it was more because they were drinking buddies with the owner). if you asked him, it’d be better if they never broke his string of thought at all with the feigned politeness - they’d heard what they all said in the office about him. ‘the fickle one’ was their way of referring to him - a nickname that surfaced not long after he'd flinched away from a touch one too many times. Not that he cared. At least they got the fucking hint.</p>
<p>Which is why casey jumped that little bit higher than they probably should have when there was a sudden tap on their shoulder. </p>
<p>The screwdriver clattered a mocking tune as it fell down into the machinery as did several other tools as they were knocked by their arms and shoulders coming up high as their head snapped around, eyes frantically scanning for whatever had come up behind them - only to relax as rationality set in, just as their eyes settled and processed exactly what, or rather who was standing in front of them.</p>
<p>He rambled, too quick for every word to be caught, though casey could pick out the basics of what exactly he was talking about, mind more focusing more on just why Mirage, latest champion for the motherfucking Apex Games was here, the edge of the city, some random mechanics workshop with a shitty pun for a name written in flickering neon lights the owner was too tight to replace, talking to them about how he usually didn’t get this lost, than anything else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“can i use your phone?”</p>
<p>and so that’s how casey ended up sitting in an old plastic lawn chair below a bright, flickering neon sign with an apex legend of all things. casey took a moment to wonder if they’d fallen asleep at some point and this was some weird dream caused by the fever no doubt forming from sleeping in the open winter air. Then again, the icy wind was too real, the heat radiating from the ceramic up in their hand - the one they brought in from home themself, coved in a multitude of cats doing their cat things - too authentic. mirage, or what he insisted casey call him, elliot, was still talking; the coffee in his own mug sittin on the table between them losing heat quickly. It was an alright way to fill the silence of two in the morning. </p>
<p>it wasn’t until elliot took a moment to sip at the definitely-cold coffee with enough sugar and cream mixed in to make casey cringe internally that they opened their mouth </p>
<p>the distinct sound of something weighing at least similar to the average human dropping no more than ten feet away. their head turned to catch a glint of red sticking out from the dark patch, just out the reach of the nearest street lamp, a chill running up their spine as they felt their eyes lock with the crimson gaze as it rose upwards, still staying within the cover of darkness. casey stayed statue still in the plastic seat, face schooled and unmoving in its usual, uninterested expression. the very image of composure. </p>
<p>there wasn't a moment to break the eye contact themselves, mira-- elliot jumping up from his seat and catching both of their attention as he slung an arm over the figure, bringing them into the purple tinted, flicking light. </p>
<p>jealousy almost came to mind as casey studied the very warm looking clothing they bore, an effective shield against the bitter night currently prickling casey's bare arms. they sighed quietly, it did make sense that yet another fucking celebrity would be picking the other one up. </p>
<p>"I thank you for your time," that caused casey to snap their head up, not realising they'd been lost in thought - scrambling to get the right words out right (and internally cringing at how wrong it sounded to them). </p>
<p>"there's another train still, just take a right at the coffee shop and you'll get there in no time," they attempted to help, standing up and pointing more out of the need to keep their hands busy than anything else. the two legends said their goodbyes and left. </p>
<p>casey stood there for a minute, watching them turn the corner from their spot under the neon light. one breath, two, three; they turned around and started their way back to their apartment, only now noticing just how heavy their limbs had become. </p>
<p>crashing into a favourite, fluffy blanket while still wearing grease a stained seven-year-old tank top and cargo pants may not have been the best of ideas long term, it sure felt fucking amazing in the moment. casey groaned, sitting back up to shed the cloth before flopping back down and turning over. </p>
<p>not like they'd actually sleep, though</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact: this entire thing was written in the first place cause i got annoyed at the lack of non-fem reader fics, then got attatched to the idea and filled it out more</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>